Rise of the Stranger
by zaraerivia
Summary: A short story about the Polite stranger/leader. I didn't feel his character had enough depth in the movie.


"We'll be safe." I murmered into my wife's hair, holding her close. She shook against me, obviously not believing me. I sighed, checking my gun again. I knew how many bullets there were, I'd checked it fifty times. The pack of ammo sat against my hip as I leaned out to look down the hall once more. Our whole family, packed into one small closet. This damned Purge, why had the government even unleashed such an unholy abomination upon us? Just as I was preparing to tell my wife it seemed clear, a hand reached past me, grabbing her by the hair. She let out a loud screech as they dragged her out, followed by two quick gunshots, and silence. It took less than a minute for our children to piece it together, and they in turn began to voice their protest. More shots, more silence. I hadn't even processed what was happening until now. Suddenly, my mind caught up with me. Opening my eyes, I found only one member of my family still alive. My only son stared back at me, frightened and panicked. I tried to tell him it would be okay, but before I could command my mouth to form the words, they were dragging us out of the closet, and tossing us on the floor. A knife clattered into my view, and I began to wonder why they'd arm me if they wanted to kill me.

"Make it fast." I said, not even reaching for the blade that sat so readily next to me. The one who I suppose could pass as their leader, a man around my own age, shook his head slowly, with a grin. "No. You're going to kill your own kin now." He told me, kicking the knife closer. His words churn in my brain. Why would I do that? What would possess me to kill my son? A laugh escapes my throat, the first of what I didn't realize would become many. The knife was thrust into my hand. "Why would I kill my own son?" I ask him. "Because if you don't, we will. And if we do, I can promise it will hurt a lot more." He informs me, pulling my hand towards my son. Through all of this, my son was staring at me in a mixture of fear and confusion. I knew the man's words were true. "He's only a little boy!" I say. "What did we do to deserve this?" His grin spreads. "You're poor. That's all." He states as he takes my hand, plunging it into my son's stomach. I realize that there's no hope left, it's become a kill or be killed situation. My sons bleeding form whimpers my name, and it's all I can do to not rush him to a hospital. Not that I'd be able to get help anyway, not till 7 am. I'm forced to sit here, cradling my son's form as he chokes and gasps painfully. It's too much for a father to bear. I take the knife and... Stab it into his heart. Within moments my son stops fighting and slips into cold death, bleak and black. Our daughters, twins, lay slumped against one another. My wife is a crumpled bloody form. But I can't cry. For some reason, the liquid refuses me. I look up at the man, now grinning even wider, and all I can ask is "What now?"

I end my story, having lost some of the details over the past couple years, but the children are still just as enthralled. We prepare them for the Purge by telling them about our first Purges, how they went, who we killed, ect. It's a tradition for our community.

I'm now remarried, the strongest female member of their group is my new wife. A beautiful blonde with an edge for killing. She loves machetes, has an affinity for blades actually. Prefers them to guns because, as she puts it, they're slower and more methodical. You can create terror and pain easier than with a gun. She's told me, on more than one occasion to "Imagine walking towards someone whose tied up with no chance to escape. You drag the blade slowly across their skin, knowing they'll scream. And they do, and you just love it.". Every time she brings up her favorite way of killing, I get more and more excited. March 22nd has become our favorite holiday.

This year is to be no different. We've been watching a homeless guy, seemingly unarmed but that's okay. We just wish to rid the world of the filth dragging our nation down. Blessed be America!

We prepare a meal, dinner is early tonight. Nice juicy steaks and wine. Premium cuts of meat and the finest red we could find, of course. After the meal we all begin our preparations. Women dress in their white gowns, men in whatever they wish to wear. I pull on a boarding school uniform, picking up my mask as a last touch. "Is everyone ready?" I call out, looking at the eager faces. Everyone has their weapons sharpened or loaded, hilted and ready. I stand at the door, smiling. It's time. "We have ten minutes until the siren. Get into position, be ready to attack." I tell them. They nod, and we head out. Surrounding him was easy. Billy, the youngest of our group, was to kill him. The only member of our group who had yet to kill during the Purge, it was important that he got this honour. Yet we weren't ready for the next events. That seemingly unarmed homeless man was prepared. He rushed out, stabbing Billy straight through the throat. The shock stuck with us all as he ran, only being hit by a couple of hand to hand attacks. One of our women grabbed him and managed to slam his face into the wall, busting open his cheek. Crimson blood dripped forth, a reminder of the Purge's beauty. He broke her hold on him and ran, tearing off down the street. "After him." I barely had to command. We all began our persuit, through the gated community of rich folk. I breathed a deep breath, calmed by the beautiful houses and, I'm assuming, as equally beautiful people. How could rich folk such as this be anything less?

Time passed, and we lost our target. "Where did he go..." I say more to myself than anyone else. Apon reaching a... Party? We are informed that their neighbors, the Sandins' are giving him sanction. They can't explain why, nor can we.

We've arrived at the Sandin home to ask for our target back. We give them an hour to return him to us or we'll be forced to come in for him. I think it's a generous offer.

Half an hour later I call mister Sandin out to his door for a chat. He hasn't returned the swine. My words convince him, however, that he needs to. He goes to get him.

Our equipment arrived, they're out of time. I'm angry, I had such high hopes for them. We'll be in their house in a moment. I'll say a farewell to the sweet Sandin family.

We're in the house. Gunshots are ringing everywhere. What a beautiful sound! As I sneak around a corner, I hear a struggle. I'm forced to merely watch while mister Sandin kills the two teenagers we had with us. They were so promising too... My wife gets in the mix, and gets killed as well. As he rounds the corner, I stab him through his kidney. He slumps against his pool table, giving me a moment to talk to him about the swine whose life he gave his own for. A kiss apon his brow, pulling my knife from him, and I'm off. Now to kill his family.

It takes time but I eventually find them huddled together. Except, where's the girl? I load my gun, aiming it for the wife's face first, when suddenly-

Bullets riddle me, the teenager is unloading a full clip. I feel my life fading. Wonder if this was how my children felt...


End file.
